Do What You Do Just Keep On Laughing
by safae
Summary: George is getting married and Molly is going OTT with the planning. As his mum drives him mental, his dad hides in the shed and his siblings are worse than useless. Combine that with the tension surrounding the bride's family and George wistfully looks back at the days of falling in love during a war. GeorgeW x OC, F&G escapades, canon ships and lots of the wonderful Weasley family


"Nope, that's it!" George announced with a decisive finality, tea sloshing dangerously up the side of his mug as he plonked himself at the Burrow kitchen table. "Mum has got far too invested in this wedding. I've had it. We're eloping."

Ron - who'd only accompanied George over here because he knew there'd be a cup of tea and plate of biscuits in it for him - opened his mouth explain to his brother that that wasn't an option when their mother's irate voice from the next room saved him the trouble.

"I heard that!" she hollered shrilly, so loud George could've sworn she was using an amplification charm. "Don't you dare even think about it George Weasley! I mean it!"

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, flinching and rubbing his one good ear in response to the bashing it was getting. "She's got hearing like a sodding bat!"

Of course he hadn't actually meant it, however much clearing off from all this hassle appealed right now. He knew it'd break his mum's heart if she didn't get to see all her children married at the Burrow, particularly him after what'd happened. She meant well and he appreciated her efforts, but she was being really over bearing with it and it flew right in the face of George's wish to have something less…formal. He wanted causal and fun not matching dinner services and table decorations and he and mum had been battling over it ever since he'd announced his engagement a few weeks back.

"You're getting married in this house like your brothers did," Mrs Weasley continued unabated, apparently wanting to make quite sure that he was very clear on her wishes, "and if you even think about eloping I will drag you back here myself, make sure you get married and then I'll NEVER forgive you! Never! Do you hear me?"

"I could hardly fail to hear you!" he called back sarcastically, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh of acceptance before taking a sip of his tea. He glanced at Ron over the rim of the mug. "She's really is driving me mental, you know."

"Just give in mate," Ron advised sagely as he picked up a bun from the plate he'd found on the side. They were probably for supper but he wouldn't be here by then. "You know she's going to get her own way in the end. Better accepting it now and saving yourself a headache."

George never was one to take things lying down though.

"No, she really has gone mad, I swear. Worse than usual. And she's got sneaky with it. She said she just wanted me to come round here because the cooker is playing up and dad's at work and then she ambushes me and starts asking about place settings and colour schemes. That's just taking advantage of my good nature."

He pretended to be affronted but Ron wasn't buying it.

"I think you'll find that that's knowing if she asked you to come around here and talk about wedding stuff you would've apparated yourself to Edinburgh."

George couldn't exactly deny it.

"Anyway," Ron mumbled around a mouthful of bun, "isn't it normally the bride-to-be who decides this sort of stuff? Why don't you ask Seph to tackle her? Mum wouldn't holler at her."

"She's really busy at work," George dismissed and he was grateful when Ron let that drop without finding anything else to say about it. Ron was spending more and more time working at the shop of late - something George was secretly very thankful for - and he didn't want him to end up blundering in and asking Persephone questions that it'd pain her to answer. There were enough clouds hanging over this wedding as it was without dragging the past up.

Although he couldn't help but think that was probably inevitable somehow whatever he tried to do.

George cradled the tea mug in his long fingers, silent a moment before pushing the heavier thoughts aside and grinning slyly at his younger brother. He never could stay too serious for long, even these days. It just didn't suit him.

"You know," he pointed out, "if you were a better brother you and Hermione would get engaged too, take some of the heat off me."

Ginny walked in at just the right - well, 'wrong' from Ron's point of view - moment and scoffed derisively as she caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Engaged? It took him ten years to ask her out, what makes you think he's going to be any quicker asking her to marry him?"

Ron opened his mouth to protest that and then thought better of it at Ginny's wilting look. It was a fair point and George turned a somewhat devious look on his sister instead.

"Ginny, you and Harry have been together a while… Why don't you break with tradition and ask him?"

She frowned at him. "Are you actually trying to marry off your only sister so that our mother gets off your back about wedding plans?"

"Of course. Did it work?"

She rolled her eyes, picked up a biscuit and walked out again.

The most useless bunch of siblings ever, George decided.

"You could always ask Charlie," Ron suggested nonchalantly.

"Nah, he's married to his work," George reasoned, cocking his head in consideration before speaking again. "Although, if the Ministry made it legal to marry a dragon, he probably would."

"And Mum would still try to organise it."

George grinned a little. Very true. "Do you reckon she'd try to argue with Ms Dragon over the flower arrangements?"

"Absolutely. And she'd win." Ron grinned slightly to himself at the thought. "We might need a bigger marquee than normal though."

"Well if you're going to fit in that first dance without death and chaos ensuing… I mean did you see Charlie dance at Percy's wedding? He's a bloody hazard, I tell you."

"You did bet him twenty gallons that he couldn't drink a full pint of fire whiskey. And then you didn't pay him."

George laughed at the memory. "I would've done, but he had a lampshade of his head by that point and it was very hard to talk to him."

This was another reason why he liked Ron working in the shop, even if the ways his little brother made him laugh weren't always intentional on Ron's part.

"Afternoon boys!" The kitchen door swung open and their dad walked in quite cheerfully, Ministry work case in hand, hat perched so precariously on his head that George wasn't sure how it stayed on when he walked let alone apparated. "Round here for tea are you? Where's your mother?"

"Next door," George said, a huffy edge returning to his tone, "putting colour schemes together."

"Ah. Right. I see."

Arthur Weasley knew very well what that meant. Two boys married, two weddings planned and still Molly insisted on trying to ask his opinion on things and then chastising him when he didn't get it 'right'. He'd once tried to reason with her that he clearly wasn't cut out for this sort of thing, that whatever she choose herself was bound to be lovely and therefore she didn't even need his opinion. Apparently that wasn't the right answer either though and he was loudly - and repeatedly - berated for not taking an interest. Now he was resigned to the fact that he'd probably be witnessing the weddings of his grandchildren by the time she gave up trying to involve him, and hence there was only one sensible course of action to take when she started planning.

"I'll be in the shed," he announced, turning straight back out the door again.

"I'll bring you a cup of tea," George offered immediately, getting up and heading to the kettle. Anything to legitimately escape.

"Bloody cowards the lot of you," Ron said derisively, shaking his head. Nothing was moving him from this kitchen whilst there was fresh baking around, even the threat of mum. He was made of sterner stuff.

"Ron! Ron, are you there? Come in here a moment please! I want to ask your opinion on something!"

As Ron's face fell, George's brightened considerably.

* * *

"There you go, dad."

George carefully placed the mug of tea down on one of the few empty spots on the workbench, slipping it in between what he believed was a toaster and the remains of something called a 'Playstation'. Dad had told him with enthusiastic fascination that it was some sort of gaming device which had a shiny spinning disk inside it like those CD player things. George didn't see why Muggle children liked shiny spinning disks so much but apparently they were very popular.

"Oh lovely, ta," Arthur thanked him as he stood up from behind the lawn mower he was tinkering with. He'd been attempting to cross with a jet wash to find a more efficient garden tool. The results had been…temperamental.

It'd been a while since he'd been in dad's shed - the success of the shop keeping him busy and away from the Burrow - and George was momentarily struck by a feeling of nostalgia, causing him to pause and lean back against one of the benches as he looked around the room. His gaze wandered over the myriad of odds and sods that his dad had collected over the years. Over the half assembled Muggle inventions and broken bits of what would be junk to anyone else. He remembered back when that old car was still here, the pride and joy of dad's unofficial collection that was apparently in the shed for safe keeping but which they all knew was hidden from mum so she couldn't see what he was doing to it. He, Fred and Ron had taken to rescue Harry from those horrible relatives of his. That had been what? Eight years ago now? It seemed longer somehow.

"I swear you've got a tonne of new stuff since I was last in here," he commented with a fond grin. His dad's hobby gave mum a constant headache but George had always thought it was rather excellent. He didn't know what half of stuff was and he suspected that dad didn't either but still... "And you never get rid of anything."

"Undetectable extension charm," Arthur explained, wiping his hands clean on a rag before picking up the mug. "Very useful in your loft. Or your stock room."

George smiled slightly. "I'll remember that."

There was silence a moment, Arthur sipping on his tea and looking thoughtfully at his son. Expectantly almost, as if he knew instinctively that something was bothering George even though he hadn't said a word.

"And I'd better get back inside," George announced with false cheer, standing up properly again, not entirely at ease with the silent scrutiny. It wasn't really in his nature to 'talk'. "She might need me for some dire emergency like the napkins not co-ordinating with the tablecloths."

"You know your mother means well," Arthur said steadily just as George reached the door, causing his son to turn back round.

"Yup," George nodded without hesitation. "And I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to everyone when she actually does drive me mental. They can write it on my chart in St Mungo's"

He was genuinely smiling though even with the sarcasm. He did know very well how much mum cared and how much her family meant to her. He just rather wished that she could find another way of showing it at the moment.

"I know you wanted something a bit different," Arthur soothed, ever the peace keeper, "but why not try to compromise with her, hmm? She just wants something that all the family can come to."

George hesitated a moment before speaking, chewing lightly on his lip and he tried to decide whether to say something or not. Sometimes it was still hard to open up to people who weren't Fred. When you were used to only ever having to - needing to - confide in one person, opening up to others felt like very strange territory indeed. Fred had always known what was wrong and why without George having to say a word and George had got used to having someone who just 'got it' and knew exactly what to do. Actually having to talk to people and explain himself was still very odd. The rest of his family weren't exactly the most intuitive bunch but they were trying, particularly his dad who, as it turned out, understood George better than George himself could ever have imagined.

"But that's just it, isn't it dad?" he finally reasoned quietly. "It'll be all our family, won't it? Seph's won't be there."

It bothered him and had been doing so for weeks, ever since mum had started her planning in earnest. Not because he or Persephone wanted her family there, but because he still saw that uncomfortable flinch in her eyes whenever 'family' was mentioned. Mum clearly never did.

It'd been Molly Weasley's indelible mothering instincts - back when things had first got really bad again - that'd given Persephone the escape that she'd needed far more than she'd let on. But a good heart didn't stop mum from being a bit clueless at times. She was so surrounded by family that it was impossible for her to imagine what it was like to be thrown aside by your own. Or how conflicted you could feel when people you'd loved had done such awful things. Either way it hurt, and how much worse would that be at a wedding when people asked - or pointedly didn't ask - why there was only his family there? This was supposed to be a happy occasion for both of them, not a way to rake up the past.

Arthur nodded in manner that implied he'd suspected what the true root of George's irritation stemmed from.

"I didn't like to ask," he admitted with an apologetic look. "Has she at least told them?"

"About the wedding? She said she was gonna write to her mum. Said she didn't want her hearing about it from some stranger."

"But she doesn't want them there?"

"I did ask but she said it'd be too awkward."

Which in all honesty he could only agree with. Wedding or no, George couldn't envisage any circumstances under which the meeting of their respective families would go well.

Arthur looked at him steadily, an earnest expression. "Look, George, I don't particularly relish the thought of having them here, that's true, but it's your wedding. It's her wedding. She's only going to get one."

"Hopefully…"

Arthur ignored the interruption of attempted levity. "If she wants them to be there…"

It was a gesture that George hadn't really expected. The enmity between his father and hers was long standing and for his dad to even offer…

"I'll ask again," he said with a genuinely grateful nod, "but I really don't think it's what she wants. Honestly. She just wants what I do; for everyone to have a really good day. That's what's important. That's what a wedding should be about, shouldn't it?"

Arthur smiled, a hint of pride on his face. There'd been times - mostly when George was exploding toilet seats or trying out his products on unsuspecting younger children - when he'd never believed that it would happen, but George really had grown up. And Arthur knew he didn't say it enough but he was very, very proud of the good spirited young man that his son had become. After what George had been through, it was a real testament to his character.

"Quite true," he agreed. "It's what we want too. And your mother wouldn't wish to upset Persephone for the world. She's very fond of her, you know."

"Yeah, I'd noticed," George grinned, perking up as the weight lifted off his shoulders a bit. "Sometimes I think she likes her more than she likes me."

"Well her parents were Death Eaters and yet she still caused less trouble than you ever did…" Arthur pointed out matter-of-factly before continuing. "But I'll talk to mum later, ask her to tone things down a bit."

"Thanks, dad."

Arthur grinned as he sipped at his cooling tea.

"Trust you to choose the awkward family to marry into, eh? I should've known that you were going to be the troublesome one even in that. And here I was thinking it'd be Ginny."

"Yeah, well admittedly I did have a gaggle of girls to choose from but I like this one I'm afraid."

"Oh don't worry, you've made some far stupider choices in your time, believe me." Arthur smiled warmly. "And you do both seem happy."

"Yeah," George agreed, the warmth on his father's face mirrored on his own. "We are."

Then he seemed to become a bit embarrassed by the moment of near sentimentality.

"Besides," he added more nonchalantly, "I'm not marrying into the Malfoy family. I'm taking possession of the one decent part of it. It's a rescue of sorts. I'm the brave and heroic type."

"Clearly," Arthur snorted dryly. "Although I wouldn't let her hear you say 'possession'. I'm not sure she'd appreciate it and she's got a temper to rival your mother's from what I've seen."

George grinned. Oh yes, he knew that full well. It was what'd made him notice her in the first place.


End file.
